


lookin' for somethin' (haven't found it yet)

by silveryink



Series: The Tales of Lee Scoresby [1]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Episode 4: Armour, Foreshadowing, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: After months of fruitless searching, Lee finally finds a way to an old friend in need.
Relationships: Iorek Byrnison & Lee Scoresby, Lee Scoresby & Hester
Series: The Tales of Lee Scoresby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572472
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	lookin' for somethin' (haven't found it yet)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an exploration of what led Lee to Trollesund - a meld of book and TV series canon. I found it interesting that the reason for Lee's presence in Trollesund changed drastically - in the book, he was part of a team for a research project that lost funding and ended up stranded there before John Faa approached him, whereas in the show he's as much of a newcomer to the town as Lyra and the rest. Of course, it had to become a prompt.
> 
> The title is from the song '[Old Best Friend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQ6IHa9rH_k)' by Joshua James and Timmy the Teeth - it's the one that Lee and Hester sing at the start of the episode.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Today was turning out to be rather unusual, even by Lee’s standards. He’d used up all his fuel in this trip, only to find that the man conducting the expedition to the far North had bailed on the offer. When he stepped off his balloon onto the quay that was their meeting point, he’d come face to face with seven or so grumpy, rugged men who’d told him that their potential employer was absent and likely would be. Lee had bit back a retort and smiled through gritted teeth – it was pointless to take out his irritation on these men – and thanked them before storming off.

“Bastard,” he muttered, kicking over a loose stone. “That was our only lead on Iorek.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Hester chided, “All we knew was that it was a ticket to Svalbard, or thereabouts.”

“I’ve been lookin’ for him for _months_ ,” Lee snarled. “Every damn time I come close -”

“No use thinkin’ like that,” she said calmly, and he felt his anger drain away. He rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Hester hummed. It wasn’t _her_ he was angry with, she knew. Or perhaps it was, seeing as they were the same person and, yeah, Lee was kind of mad at himself for not being able to track down his best friend, a damned _bear_. He exhaled. Iorek was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he knew. It was just that rumours had been practically blazing around everywhere, buzzing between people on the ground and witches in the sky. Lee hadn’t spoken to many witches before, but he heard their whispers in the harsh Arctic wind of a drastic change to come to the universe.

“We should check out that tavern,” Hester murmured, ears twitching in its direction. “Could use some more fuel and possibly a nice vent.”

“I dunno, Hester, I think rock oil’s abundant in these parts,” Lee said, eyeing the large barrels being lugged across the street by some poor soul of a worker. “It ain’t quick, but it’s easy.”

“And we need to know where to buy it cheap,” Hester agreed, hopping forward. Lee followed her automatically, before the physical distance could tug at their bond. She was right, after all, because while Lee had partly decided to join the expedition, he’d also needed to – he was severely low on money at the moment, and the scholar had promised a handsome fee to anyone who joined his party.

The bar itself was unremarkable – Lee had been in several that looked exactly the same. The sharp and musty smell of cigar smoke, the dim lighting, the dim glow of a fire never fully lit, the stained tables and grimy glasses. Now, if Lee wanted something classier, he’d have gone down to the pubs in the town square. Those were cleaner, fancier and more likely to draw stares if he walked in with his worn leather coat and travel gear. No, this bar was perfect.

The barkeep grunted when he entered. Must be a busy day, Lee observed as he carefully stepped around the tables of men playing card games and downing flagons of whatever drink they were having. Lee kept his own order nondescript, and turned to the man glowering into his empty tankard.

“Say, are you from around these parts?”

The man grunted, barely looking up for a moment. Lee considered this a win.

“I seem to be caught in a string o’ bad luck,” he said, cheerfully accepting his drink with a nod, “and I’m stranded here for a while.”

The man said nothing, but Lee wasn’t counting on it. “I dunno if you noticed, I came here in a balloon,” he added. “Thought I could ask ya where I could find some fuel.”

“You thought wrong,” the man rasped.

 _Yeah, so you’d say._ “How about I buy you a round, and you help a stranger out?”

The man looked up at him then, and Lee knew he’d won this exchange. Liquor was the language of the North. Well, liquor, some cash, and gossip.

“Fine.”

“Wonderful.” Lee grinned and hailed the bartender. “I’d like another round of the same, and whatever this gentleman wants.”

The man looked somewhat surprised, as though he hadn’t actually expected Lee to go through with his promise. He rattled off the name of the drink – Lee couldn’t be bothered to pay attention – and turned on the stool to face him.

“You here with the expedition?”

“ _Was_ ,” he corrected. “Thing’s a bust. This Scholar person didn’t show up.”

The man nodded and leaned forward, casting an eye about for any potential eavesdroppers. “I heard,” he whispered, “he was researching about them bears.”

Lee blinked. “ _Bears_ ,” he repeated, numbly handing over the man his drink.

The man nodded eagerly. “Rumour has it that the Magisterium locked ‘im up. Apparently they have a contract with the bears.”

Lee _had_ heard about this new-fangled alliance, though he hadn’t believed it to be true. He scoffed, playing the role of disbelieving traveller perfectly. “You’re pulling my leg. Svalbard ain’t ever allying with humans.”

“Aye, not usually. King Iofur has, though,” he said. “This Scholar of yours, I heard he was also researching some forbidden phenomenon. Heresy,” he added a moment later.

Huh. It would make sense. The Magisterium had very little control over the Arctic. The panserbjørne were a powerful kingdom, an alliance between them and the authorities was concerning, at the very least. Especially speaking from his own experience of leaders in the North not taking too kindly to the presence of bears. Poliakov had been a nightmare all on his own, though fortunately a very temporary one. He hadn’t set foot in Novy Odense again, thanks to that fiasco.

“Huh. Best keep myself out of that business, then.” Lee took another sip from his drink. The man nodded sagely.

“I heard there was one bear,” he said. “Exiled. Think he’s up in… Trollsound?”

Lee blinked. “Trollesund?”

“Aye. Little dump of a town. I’m a trader, see,” he said. “Just delivered a shipment of oil to ‘em.”

Lee had never been to the port-town before, but it was just far enough north to not have the oil reserves that so many other counties and towns were furnished with. “What kind of oil would that be, then?”

“Rock oil, of course.” The man downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Don’t suppose you might need some?”

“Yeah,” Lee said. “But we’ll get to negotiations later. You were sayin’ something about an exiled bear?”

“Right. Name’s something like that place in Brytain. London – no,” he reconsidered. “York… something.”

Lee stiffened, and exchanged a significant look with Hester, his intuition proven right. _Iorek_.

“Apparently some hunters got ahold of ‘im, tricked him into a blood debt. Spends his days paying it off with labour in exchange for spirits,” the man continued obliviously. “My pal Oskar said they took his armour. I don’t buy that,” he added at Lee’s stricken expression. “Oskar’s one to embellish.”

Hester nudged Lee’s leg lightly, but she didn’t need to draw his attention to this fact that had sent his mind reeling. He scooped her up into his lap and brushed a thumb between her years in a familiar gesture of acknowledgement.

Lee hummed. “I see,” he said thoughtfully, and subtly switched topics to the price of the man’s oil. He suspected that there were more than a few free vents to fill his gas-balloon with, but the thing still needed fuel. And, as he’d observed earlier, _cash_ just happened to be the currency of the North.

* * *

When Lee got his balloon up in the air once more, he made a beeline for the maps he’d collected over his years of travel. He barely used it anymore – he always had been good with geography and locations – but Trollesund was farther up North than any other town he’d visited. Far too remote for his liking. He much preferred drifting over places which had inns to rest in than camping out in the snow and cold. It felt too much like being back on the front lines in battle.

While it had been the right thing to do, Lee could go another lifetime without any more conflict. Still, the Arctic was a rough place, which was why he kept his trusty old Winchester rifle oiled and ready all the time.

“Iorek’s evaded us for so long,” Hester murmured as he sat course for Trollesund. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was also the city where the witches’ Consul resided. “I wonder if he wants to be found.”

“Of course he does.”

“You can’t know that, Lee. You know that bears aren’t exiled for nothing.”

“Iofur Raknison’s in over his head, he could have easily accused Iorek of something and exiled him over a grudge. Iorek’s not one to go ‘round making enemies, but we knew that Iofur was a piece of work.”

“We’ve gone years without seeing him before,” Hester reasoned. “He’s always been fine.”

“I know,” Lee admitted, tapping the faulty lamp a few times to get the light to flicker on. “I just… have a feeling that he isn’t, this time.”

“You’re uneasy because of all the rumours,” Hester said. She hopped onto the jump seat, so that she was nearly at eye level with him. “I’m worried about him too.”

“You’re _me_ ,” he said dryly. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

“I’m your voice of reason, anyhow,” Hester retorted. “Look at it this way – we’ve finally got a _solid_ lead on Iorek! We know where he is now, even if he’s gone by the time we get to Trollesund we can ask around and… trace his steps.”

Lee dipped his head, though: “What do you think happened to that Scholar, anyway? It seems awfully convenient that he goes missing now, with the Magisterium tightening its noose around the Arctic.”

“Nothing good,” she said darkly. “Isn’t Trollesund overrun by Magisterium officers now?”

Lee shrugged. “I think so. Wouldn’t make a difference. That place has the biggest port and has plenty of authorities _without_ the Magisterium’s influence.”

Hester sighed. “Then don’t do anything to attract trouble when we’re there,” she said.

Lee shook his head with a wry grin. He _did_ have a tendency to attract trouble. “Perhaps I could make a few friends,” he suggested. “Would be useful if I ever needed to go back.”

“Mmhmm.” Hester curled up and tucked her ears flat across her back. “We should rest for a while. At this rate, we’ll reach Trollesund in a few days. Might as well be at our best if we mean to _rescue_ our friend.”

“You might be onto something there,” Lee quipped, but she was right, and he was out the minute he closed his eyes.

* * *

“You’re excited,” Hester observed, as Lee hopped around the balloon, adjusting the controls. While it was not uncommon for them to chatter throughout the day, singing was a lot less so.

“Damn right I am,” he said, after a sip of chocolatl, “we’re barely a day out from the shore. Like you said, we’ve finally got a solid lead on Iorek.”

He frowned at the pressure gauge and smacked it a few times before adjusting the gas valve.

“He might not be the same bear,” Hester cautioned. “It’s been three years since we’ve seen him.”

Lee raised a brow. “You heard the man, some crazy seal hunter got him drunk, tricked him out of his armour.”

“An armoured bear is nothing without his armour,” Hester said sadly.

“Oh, I know. I’d be surprised if he _was_ the same bear, after that.” Lee knew that he’d been exiled, of course. He’d seen Iorek fashion his new armour plates in Nova Zembla, helped fetch the metal for him and tailored his own leather to make the straps that held it all together. The resulting set had been nothing like the fancy, gilded metal Lee had seen Iorek wear in the Tunguska Campaign – it was simple and practical, without the engravings that some bears made on their helmets.

He looked down at the clear waters below, in sunlight dispersed by the clouds that surrounded his balloon. A brightly coloured object in the water made him pause for a second, and he squinted at it for a moment before the realisation hit him.

“Hester!”

“I’m right here. What do you see?”

A boat, specifically, a _gyptian_ boat. He wasn’t unaware of the seafaring community and their habits - he knew they preferred to stay in southern, warmer waters. It was strange to see them this far North, in the cold and harsh environment he thrived in. He smiled. This was going to be interesting.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones headed to Trollesund.”


End file.
